Men and their toys
by starscraper
Summary: Five chapters on the team and their cars... including Ariadne, even if the title doesn't say so ;  rated T for language and to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

**`Elooooo… it's me again. Obviously. I had so many nice and constructive reviews last time that I thought I couldn't leave you just like that and hop off to my assignment, so here we go: My story number three :-) It's not romantic, dramatic, soppy, heartrending, angsty or anything like that. Just humour. Perhaps a strange one, because it's ****my**** humour, which takes a little getting used to, but I still hope you enjoy it…**

**I don't own Inception! Just thought I should say that…**

Her curves. Those proportions. Her smell. The low, rumbling sound she made when he pressed that one special spot. Her spiritedness. The unique feeling when he stretched within her. How well she fitted in his hands. He could feel something surge up deep inside him when he closed his eyes, so ready for her. That voice telling him what to do oh so matter-of-factly yet all was under his control, clutching the softness in front of him and taking in her genuine aura. He carefully twirled the small, smooth elatedness to his right until her voice faded away and he leaned back yearning for what was to come. He didn't even mind the guy in his grey suit at the window, eyeing him suspiciously and eventually knocking on the glass pane.

"Mr. Eames, I think it is safe to assume that she has convinced you of her virtues?"

Sighing, Eames opened the window (she made that purring noise again sending cold shivers down his spine) and looked at the man.

"I'm buying her."

The man smiled. "Very good choice. The Maserati Company wishes you always a clear run with your GranCabrio."

"You know her satnav sounds like Angelina Jolie?" Eames grinned and snatched the keys from the sales assistant, closing the window again.

"Baby, this is going to be a rough first." He hit the accelerator, whooping as she tore away from the parking lot leaving the vendor choking on her exhaust fumes.

Yeah, she was Eames' girl.

**Ok, short, perhaps not what you may have expected, but I felt like writing it. ****I think a Maserati would fit Eames very well, a little show off, a little playboy and just the right thing for a getaway, yet elegant enough to pick someone up for dinner.**

**And I admit that I am going to be living out my two unhealthy obsessions during the next chapters (one more than the other) – cars and JGL :D though I own neither of them. Hope you liked reading, reviews make my day, as always!**


	2. Chapter 2

**This is chapter two up, please excuse the fact that it's not my usual quality. I caught a really bad cold and have to stay at home while everyone else is out shopping, so that doesn't help my mood or creativity. Still, enjoy and let me know what you think!**

**Disclaimer: as always. None of it is mine… apart from the storyline.**

The most important part of their disguise was a modern steel mailbox next to the glass doors of the warehouse sporting a just as modern enamel tag in grey and white reading 'Dawson, Cannell and Talbot, Architecture Firm'.

It was the duty of anyone taking the last coffee without replacing a new fill of beans to get the mail every morning for the next week, which was usually Eames. So one sunny Friday he came strolling back from the mailbox filing through the envelopes and wandering from desk to desk, dropping something for everyone.

"Yusuf, get that insurance sorted out. This is the fourth time they are writing."

"Ariadne, enrolment receipt."

"Cobb, postcard from the kids."

He then marched to his own seat, lolling himself into the chair and tearing open a grey envelope.

"Nothing, for me, Mr. Eames?" Arthur looked up from his research.

Eames just read the letter and grinned.

Cobb wandered over, actually intending to show Arthur the postcard, as James and Philippa had scrawled 'Love to uncle Artie' under their signatures, but stopped when he saw the letterhead.

'Central Card-Index for Traffic Offenses', black on white, a huge fine that made Cobb turn pale and a name that was certainly not Eames'.

"That's not yours, and none of your business. Give it to Arthur." He said.

"What's none of his business?" Ariadne asked curiously and got up, heading towards Eames.

Before Yusuf had reached them Arthur was there, snatching the letter from Eames and scanning the front page.

"Have you ever heard of such a thing as privacy?" He was livid, Ariadne could tell from the way his jaw muscles twitched.

But Eames was not impressed. "Guess who's walking the next months?"

"What do you mean?" Yussuf tried to glance at the letter Arthur was clutching.

"You sneaky little bastard, opening my letters!"

"I was saying that Arthur dear has been driving a little too fast, to be precise they caught him with 214 km/h on their radar. 114 too many."

"Wow." Ariadne laughed. "Really?"

"Yeah, really." Arthur sneered.

"Been taking your new car for a little ride?" Eames asked in a mocking tone. "I haven't seen it yet, you know how much I love your taste of sports cars."

"You have guts, man." Yusuf shook his head. "They took your driver's license and fine you in a way that could balance the national budget, and you come to work _by car_?"

"He did?" Eames interrupted.

"Yeah, I saw it parked on the corner this morning, down by the little bakery." The chemist said.

"Type?" The forger wanted to know.

"White Audi R8 with chrome wing mirrors." Yusuf added.

Eames fell back into his chair shaking with laughter. "You mean _that_ white R8 that got towed away just as I arrived?"

"What?" Arthur's expression turned from angry to nothing and then to pure hate.

"Obviously not your lucky day today, darling." Eames managed before Arthur landed him one in the face with all the force he could come up with.

**I thought an Audi R8 would be the perfect car for Arthur. Although hell expensive it still is an understatement in itself, straight forward, no show-off thing, very into details and elegant, like our favourite point man. I simply love Audi, thank you daddy for letting me have your A6 all the time :-) One really feels very sophisticated and business-like in one, but smart and posh at the same time. So yeah, it's the perfect car for Arthur. I'm still deciding whether Ariadne has one of those Fiat Panda like cars the size of a lunch box or not even a driver's license. Let me know what our opinion is on that matter….**

**Love, StarScraper**


	3. Chapter 3

**I wrote this right after the last chapter, just had this HUGE inspiration coming my way and tried to make the best of it. Perhaps it'll make me get better soon, so I can meet with some friends for dinner… Hope you enjoy it, I'll love you forever if you review. I really wanna improve my English writing to get it to my German standard, and your help is very much appreciated!**

**Disclaimer: unfortunately the characters are not mine :-(**

"Ariadne, for God's sake, come here!" Arthur screamed aiming his rifle at the guy who had just riddled the side of the dark blue Lexus LS 460 to his left with a small-shot charge. He crouched behind the open door of an abandoned van and shot. Once, twice. The man fell to the ground without having a chance of assassinating Ariadne standing frozen in the middle of their battlefield. Her eyes darted from Arthur to the moaning figure of Eames held at gunpoint by a projection.

"Ariadne!" He called once again, and suddenly she leaped into action. Arthur saw her coming his direction in slow motion, heavy rain blurring his sight. A dark shadow moved behind the van, rounding the corner and attempting to draw its gun. Without thinking he lunged for the architect, pulling her down and behind the Lexus. He felt the pain before he heard the echo of the bullet leaving the barrel, soaring in his direction and giving him a through-and-through between the thumb and his right index finger. Warm blood gushed over the back of Arthur's hand. Shaking, he managed to fire at the man sending him to the ground more dead than alive, writhing in agony.

"Driver's seat, Ariadne. Now!" He tugged open the door to the co-driver's seat and sank into the leather, clutching his right hand. Looking to his right, he realised Ariadne gripping the steering wheel tightly, one hand on the ignition.

Arthur helped her trembling fingers turn the key. The engine shuddered to life, choking, but fell silent after not even a second.

"What the hell are you waiting for?" He shouted, looking at her in confusion.

Ariadne's eyes were wide open, staring at the rain flooding the windscreen.

"I – I can't. Do that."

"Just get us out of here, girl." Still, she didn't move.

"I can't drive." She muttered.

"What?" Arthur pressed his intact hand to his forehead. "Listen, we've only got a few minutes left, and the projections are still chasing us, so do what you have to do and drive this car."

"But I can't!" She screamed, gripping his elbow. "I fucking _can't_!"

"Okay. Easy." He took a deep breath trying to ignore the pain. "Just follow the instructions I give you and _don't panic_." He turned to face her, protecting his wounded hand with the other one.

"Unluckily, this is Eames' dream, so we have a car with manual transmission. More difficult than automatic, but you'll manage. Left foot on the far left pedal. That's the clutch." She did as she was told and he turned the key. Once more the motor jerked to life. "Good." He breathed. "Don't take your foot away. Not until I say so."

Arthur closed his eyes for a second, then looked into the rear mirror. "We have guests coming our way. Right foot on the right pedal. That's your accelerator. Keep pressing that." The engine howled. "Now let the clutch out, slowly, until you feel it engage."

"Uhm, ok." Ariadne lifted her left foot a little, then the car jolted forward and gathered speed.

"Good. That's great. Keep accelerating." Arthur opened the window, firing at their tail.

"Don't worry, I'll change gears for you." He put his left hand on the gearshift lever. "Clutch!"

The howl of the engine increased to an ear-battering screech as she didn't let go of the accelerator.

"Speed up, I changed to the third gear, you need more speed for that."

She pushed the pedal a little more.

"Pedal to the metal, Ariadne, you need that velocity." Arthur said and shot at the followers.

"Clutch!" He changed into fourth gear. "Take the next left turn. Let go of the accelerator before you turn the wheel, at the vertex of the curve accelerate again." He watched her swerving dangerously close to the walls of buildings, bumping against the sidewalk now and then.

The black Mercedes behind them was coming closer. Arthur secretly thanked god for the straight roads of New York City, Ariadne just had to dodge some cars coming her way.

"Clutch!" The engine stopped howling fiercely as he put in the fifth gear. But engine speed was increasing steadily again.

"Left, Ariadne, NOW!" The car pulled into the turn ruggedly, hitting other cars and taking down a traffic sign.

"Oh my god!" Ariadne screamed, shutting her eyes.

Arthur grasped the steering wheel, which Ariadne had let go, with his left hand and tried to keep the car steady. Bumping into different obstacles they were suddenly on a highway in the middle of the desert, leaving NCY behind them like a card board backdrop.

The speedometer had reached 90km/h, inching to the right. 100km/h. 110km/h.

"Ariadne, this is _your_ fucking car, hold onto the wheel and just _let her rip_!"

Shaking, she opened her eyes again and took over driving. Arthur had managed to lose them their tail, the black Mercedes stood next to the highway, smoking in an unhealthy way.

"Arthur?"

"Yeah?" He relaxed a little.

"Why did you do that?"

"Because you would have crashed us otherwise."

"What? No, I mean…" She sighed. "That kiss?"

He slouched back into his seat, gritting his teeth against the pain.

"You – you honestly are a cliche woman. Starting to discuss that on a getaway. Bloody hell."

Edith Piaf started chanting through the desert.

"Stop."

"How?"

"Oh, sorry. Just press the clutch and the centre pedal. Carefully!"

The car slowed down, eventually coasting to a halt.

"So." He turned sideways, looking at her. His uninjured hand turned the key, killing the engine.

Arthur winced as he moved his right hand.

"That kiss was… You know… just."

"Ok, I get it. Nothing big. Nothing of importance."

"By the way, wonderful driving for your first time, but I'd feel safer if you'd make your driver's license."

A few weeks later, she presented him the rectangular little card sporting her photo and various other information including her name and birth date.

"So, now that I have my driver's license you owe me something." She said, smiling up at him innocently.

Arthur sighed and reached into his pocket hesitating a little to taunt her, and then pulled out a shining car key with a key ring in the shape of a 500.

"So, that's yours now."

"Oh, Arthur, thank you!" She flung her arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Ariadne put the license down on her desk and rushed outside where a bright red Fiat 500 waited for her.

The point man picked up the discarded proof of her ability to steer a car and studied it.

"Eames, you bastard! You forged it!"

"I would never do anything like that." Eames gave him a Cheshire-cat grin.

"You spelled 'lisense' with two s, and 'officiel' with an e. Idiot! That just cost me a car."

"Payback's a bitch, darling. You won't admit you love her, so I decided to let you pay for that. Tell her and I'll stop." Eames followed Ariadne out of the warehouse, whistling 'Rule Britannia' and not giving a damn about Arthur. That stick-in-the-mud would tell her about his feelings as soon as he got the bill for the Spa weekend which Eames' had booked on his behalf for him and Ariadne. After all, it was just for his own good, wasn't it?

**Ok, looks like chapters are growing longer and longer. Which is actually due to the fact that I can't get enough of Arthur/JGL :D I'm sure you understand…**

**Thanks to **_**Efcia**_** for the idea with the Fiat 500. As always, your opinion on my writing helps me improve, and that makes it even more fun for you to read, so reviews are for your own good, haha ^^**

**Love, StarScraper**


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry for not updating for such a long time, I spent the whole day yesterday at the Uni Library trying to get this assignment done – no chance. Inception is spooking through my head all the time. I actually had a nightmare involving Arthur last night. This obsession turns out to be, uh, unhealthy…**

**Disclaimer: Same procedure as always. I own zip.**

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**Cobb tugged James along behind him and tried to ignore his whining. He had been lamenting for the last fifteen minutes about not being allowed to buy that gigantic popcorn package. Philippa punched into the full plastic bags her dad was carrying and sent them against his knee with a painful _thump_.

"For the love of God, James, stop whining. Popcorn is very unhealthy, and we're having dinner in about an hour. Philippa, stop it. Now."

Both hands occupied by children and shopping Cobb dug in his pocket for the car key.

"Daddy, can I have one of those cookies now, please?" Philippa gripped his sleeve and pulled him down, nearly dropping the bags.

"No, love. As I said – dinner."

"Pleeeease!" She gave him those puppy eyes and pulled a face.

"What's so hard to understand here? No. No, no, no."

Philippa sulked. James bent down to the concrete, very interested at the remains of some little animal flattened into the white outlines of the parking lot.

"Don't touch that, please." Cobb searched his other pocket, juggling the bags and shrugging off Philippa's little hand.

"Daddy, I want a cookie. Now!" She shouted, stomping the ground with her cute little white shoes.

"No!" Cobb retorted and stopped next to a dark brown BMW X5.

"I WANT ONE!" Philippa screamed. An old lady next to them got into her car shooting them anxious glances.

"It's very rude to talk to your dad like that, you know." He said, fumbling out the key. Cobb pressed the little button balancing the shopping with one arm. Nothing happened.

"AAAAHHHHHH!" Philippa clenched her petite hand to fists and tiptoed up to her father, screeching in his ear. James eyed her with a mix of surprise and amusement.

"Holy crap!" Cobb swore as the car didn't unlock. This was just what he needed.

"You said crap, daddy." James murmured. "Crap crap crap…" He blabbered to himself as he reached for the cookie box inside the plastic bag dangling from Cobb's wrist. With one sharp tug the bag tore at the bottom, spilling its content on the floor.

"Jesus H. Christ!" Cobb kicked the side of the BMW fiercely and landed the rest of the shopping on the bonnet, beyond doubt leaving a nice dent, then bent down to pick up yoghurt, rice and a package of napkins. James already crawled under the car for the tangerines.

"Excuse me for interrupting you Sir, but I would appreciate an explanation why you are violating my car."

Cobb glanced up a pair of suit pants.

"Um, I… I'm awfully sorry." He stammered, glancing at _his own_ brown BMW X5, parked only a few yards down the row.

"Kids, this way." Cobb gathered his shopping and the two cheeky brats, steering them across the parking space.

He then rushed back to the bewildered man, putting his business card down on the deformed bonnet and patted the guy on the back. Hell, he had to get used to being a father again.

* * *

**So, hope you liked it… a BMW X5 would be the perfect car for the Cobbs, spacious, comfy, reliable. And if you thought James and Philippa did lose out a bit here, then watch out for my next story – there they'll be ever so well behaved :)**

**Love, StarScraper**

**PS: Do you actually have manual cars in America? Or do you use automatic ones in driving school? Just being curious ;)  
**


	5. AN

A/N: I am sooo very sorry for not having updated fort he last week. But I will do as soon as possible. The assignment is handed in, University has started, the whole aggro is over – I promise to upload a new chapter to every story before the weekend comes around :-) just to let you guys know!


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